


Pacific Rim: Summer Storm

by FeedMeHardy



Category: Portrait de la jeune fille en feu | Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, F/F, Pacific Rim AU, Side of Terminator: Dark Fate, We're Drifting like it's 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25463938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeedMeHardy/pseuds/FeedMeHardy
Summary: Straight-up Pacific Rim AU starring Héloïse and Marianne. With Sophie, Grace and Dani from Terminator: Dark Fate, Stacker Pentecost and Mako Mori.
Relationships: Héloïse/Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 66





	Pacific Rim: Summer Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Jaeger: huge punching robot controlled by two pilots who go "into the Drift" or "Drift with each other" via a neural link in order to synchronise. Being "Drift compatible" is a rare connection with someone. 
> 
> Kaiju: monsters from another dimension accessing Earth through the Rift, an interdimensional portal at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Intent on destruction and ever-escalating in size and ferocity.

Héloïse feels the chopper coming, feels the throbbing of the air. Eventually, it looms into view through the clouds. Zero questions about who this could be. 

She waves her arms to push it away from the house. Just like these philistines to land in her asparagus. The chickens scatter, but they'll be back. It's a tiny island, there's nowhere for them to go. That means there's nowhere for her to go, either. 

The helicopter lands and Pentecost climbs down, looking around with his usual air of displeasure. "Héloïse."

"Marshal."

There's a standoff. No "to what do I owe the pleasure?" or any such nicety is going to pass Héloïse's lips. 

"You're a hard woman to find."

"Evidently not hard enough."

He looks at her wind turbine, the solar panels. He'll enjoy the composting toilet out back, if he stays that long, which she suspects he won't.

"Don't suppose you've seen the news lately?"

"That would defeat the object." The world could end and she would barely have to know. Since winter and her trips to the mainland for supplies, she could've been the only person on the planet. Wouldn't that have been nice. 

"Allow me, then."

"Really prefer you didn't." She supposes a protest won't make any difference.

"The Coastal Wall programme has failed. Kaiju chewed through it within an hour in Sydney."

"Good for them."

He gives her that look. "The Jaeger project is back online. One final assault with everything we've got."

"Good for you."

"We've reactivated everything we can get our hands-on. Including one beaten-to-shit Mark III model."

Héloïse keeps her breath under control. 

"She needs a pilot."

"You can't ask me that." Five years ago she had crawled out of that Jaeger half-dead onto a God-forsaken Alaskan beach. Lying in the sand and the snow and her own blood waiting for the other half of her to die too. 

"I'd ask someone else, believe me. All the other Mark III pilots are dead." 

"That must be real tough for you." She turns and walks away.

"Your sister was a good person. A fine pilot, a better person."

It was naive to have thought he wouldn't go there. "Yeah? What good did that do her?"

"She died saving people's lives, just like she would have wanted."

"What do you know about what she wanted? You didn't know her, or any of us. You never wanted to."

"I was your commanding officer."

"Yes, you were. Not any more."

"Come on, Héloïse. What are you doing out here exactly? What kind of a life is this?"

Well, when the sun shined in the summer and there was dirt etched into every line in her hands, when those hands were in the soil her ancestors had tilled since the beginning of humanity, when every muscle ached and her body hummed with it, when she stepped into the sea and let it take her weight... those days it was a good kind of a life. The rest... less so. But then, she doesn't deserve _any_ good days so she will take what she can get. 

"You want to die here? Of what, boredom? Or do you want to die in a Jaeger saving the world?"

She doesn't care about the world. "Is that a promise?"

"Someone can stay here. Look after... things." He says it with obvious distaste. 

"Why? It's not like I'm coming back." Yeah, she sees the confirmation in his eyes. It's not like she's coming back. 

...

Everyone knew Pentecost had gone off searching for a veteran pilot for the restored Mark III, part of the big new plan to finish the Kaiju War off. When Marianne sees the marshal and Mako coming through the dining room with a new person and a hush descends over the room she can't quite believe it. 

"That's her?"

Grace is still scraping food around her plate, but pauses long enough to say, "Mm-hm. The legend herself."

Sophie stares at the newcomer in a less discreet way. "Honestly, the state her old rig was in... I didn't think it was worth putting back together. Brutal." 

And Dani is getting in on the gossip too. "When her sister was killed they were still linked." 

"Héloïse nearly died, then she disappeared," Sophie concludes. 

Marianne is horrified. "When was this?"

"Five years ago."

"Five years ago? We were kids five years ago." Aged twenty-three Marianne had barely finished art school and was living a pretty idyllic existence in Paris, far from the turmoil in the Pacific. "Poor thing."

Grace laughs. "That is _not_ what most people say about her."

"And they brought her back?" It sounds like this Héloïse has suffered enough.

"You're a bleeding heart, Marianne. But if you want to pilot a Jaeger then she's your chance." Sophie shrugs. "And she's French too."

"That's not how it works," Dani protests. 

"No chance," Marianne murmurs, watching Héloïse.

The feeling is compounded when, her eyes still on Héloïse, like much of the room, she sees the brewing of an altercation. Someone at a table says something, Héloïse reels round, voices get louder. Héloïse has him by the shirt. Marshal Pentecost is saying something in a low, pissed-off voice then Mako is pulling Héloïse away. 

"Oh, this is going to be fun," Grace says approvingly. 

No chance at all. 

...

"We've got some copilot options lined up for you."

"Yeah, so, I was thinking about that."

From the look on her face, Mako is aware some bullshit is coming. 

"I've done it on my own before, right?"

"That's not how it works, Héloïse," Pentecost booms. 

"Why not? One quick kamikaze."

Mako looks at Pentecost. He sighs. "I see appealing to your death wish was all too accurate."

Mako at least looks sympathetic. "Héloïse, we will find you someone, someone you feel comfortable with."

"I don't want anyone in my head."

"I know." Héloïse thinks that perhaps Mako does. "But when it's the right person..."

Héloïse takes the file and looks through. None of these wasters look likely to be the right person so it is a waste of time, not her problem. At least she can beat the shit out of some of them in the process, that could be fun. 

The marshal, Mako and Héloïse enter the room. Dozens of people are milling around, some warming up. The cadets all look up as they enter and stand at the top of the steps. 

Slowly, enjoying herself, Heloise peels off her sweater and lets it fall to the floor. Eyes travel all over her. She rolls her shoulders back, feels her muscles tensing, deliberately tenses them. She cracks her neck from side to side, shakes her arms out. Her sleeveless shirt is low enough you can see the scars across her sides, the burns etched into her, her left arm is a pattern. She removes her shoes, it is a performance, she is looking at her arms as intently as anyone else in the room. She puts her hair up, aware of the view this shows of her biceps. 

She'd run off to that island hoping to waste away. But she had built a house with her own bare hands, felled trees, dug fields, chopped wood, swam two miles round the island every day. 

She takes hold of the Bo staff provided and steps onto the mat. 

Mako calls a name, he steps forward. Shorter than her, but well-muscled. He looks nimble on his feet. Héloïse has him pinned to the floor in under three seconds. 

Another name. Dude must be seven feet tall. She looks over her shoulder at Mako, who shrugs, but one lunge and he is sprawled on the floor too, Héloïse's Bo nudging up against his forehead. 

Another, another. There is nothing to them. Nothing new, nothing interesting, nothing worth keeping up the fight for. 

"Marianne!" There's a pause and Héloïse uses it to catch her breath. No-one comes. "Marianne," Mako says it more as a sigh. 

The crowd shuffles and starts to split, off to the side a gap forms and looking down it Héloïse sees a completely oblivious figure sat against the wall with a notebook. Taking notes? No, there is something too fluid about it. The head bobs up and they make eye contact. This Marianne is alarmed, looks around at everyone else. 

"Is it me?"

Oh my God, Héloïse thinks, this is going to be too easy. 

Marianne stands and willowy isn't even the word. As she comes towards Héloïse though there is an ease to her movement. She doesn't look strong, but supple, maybe. As she comes to a halt at the mat and is handed a Bo she looks at Héloïse and smiles. Héloïse just frowns back. She takes her stance. Marianne's eyes sweep up from her feet, and she takes her own. 

Neither of them moves. Then Marianne, gently, testing, takes a step to the side. Héloïse follows. Those big dark eyes are all over her. She can't take it, she moves. Marianne parries. She doesn't attack though. Héloïse backs off a moment. No, changes her mind. Swoops in, but Marianne is just a fraction of a second too late. 

"One," Mako calls. But it has already taken longer than anyone else. Héloïse looks Marianne in the eye and gives a little nod to continue. They right themselves. Héloïse shifts and immediately Marianne is there to her left taking advantage of the weakness on that side. Her Bo is resting on Héloïse's shoulder ever so gently.

"One, one," Mako calls. 

"Sorry," Marianne says inexplicably. 

Back to the beginning. Héloïse uses the apology and Marianne's reticence to make short work of the next point. But she is panting, perspiration is on her forehead. She wipes her arm over her face as Marianne stands. 

"Two, one."

Marianne doesn't seem to be affected at all. She moves smoothly, gracefully. The way she got to her feet totally unconcerned by gravity, the power there is undeniable. Something else is undeniable to Héloïse already, but she is definitely intending to deny it for at least a little while longer. 

The next point and they move in unison. Stepping forwards and back with an unbreakable balance just for those moments. Héloïse takes the swing too early and all Marianne has to do is lean back and let it fly over her. Spinning off, Marianne is behind her before Héloïse can work out what is going on. The staff nestled into the small of Héloïse's back. 

"Two, two."

No. Héloïse swings hard, too hard, but it takes Marianne by surprise. She puts up a block, but Héloïse has the advantage of raw strength and before Marianne can slip away from under it Héloïse has a leg around, tripping her back. Marianne tries to pivot and could have escaped, but for Héloïse whipping the other end of the Bo around to catch her in the ribs. She crumples to the floor.

Héloïse stands over her. Marianne is wincing with a hand on her side. She looks up at Héloïse who braces herself for an angry retaliation. But it isn't anger, it isn't hate or disgust, it is pity. 

Héloïse drops her staff. She walks out the room passed Mako and Pentecost whose eyes are boring into her. "No," she says. "Not going to happen." She scoops up her sweater, leaves her shoes and goes back to her room. 

...

Everyone is dismissed. Marianne gets herself up off the mat, but stays rooted to the spot. 

"You too, cadet," the Marshal intones. 

Mako puts her hand up to him and comes over to Marianne. "Do you need to go to medical?"

"No." She might. "Did you - I wasn't dreaming that, was I?"

"No." Mako smiles. "It was pretty unbelievable though." They both look toward the door Héloïse had stormed through. "She felt it too."

"But she's so... stubborn. And reckless. You saw that? She exposed herself. She didn't care."

Mako and Pentecost share a look. They do know, this is a known issue. 

"OK, we can fight. But does that mean we are Drift compatible? All the rest of it? I don't know if I can."

"Stubborn and reckless can be good things in our line of work," Pentecost says. 

"Balanced with your calm," Mako says encouragingly. 

Pentecost moves to where Marianne had been sitting. She knows what he is doing and she knows she can't stop him. He picks up her sketchbook. Looks for a long moment before flipping it back to the bench. 

"Go talk to Héloïse," he instructs Marianne as he walks away. "I want the pair of you in that Jaeger, 1600 hours."

He leaves and Mako follows after a reassuring pat on the shoulder. As soon as they have gone Sophie, Grace and Dani scamper in. 

"What happened?"

"Dude!"

"It was..." Marianne breathes. "I don't know what it was. I can't drift with someone like her, surely?"

"Stranger things," Dani says, beaming up at Grace. 

"Yeah, but you two are both nice people, and actually like each other. Héloïse is..." 

"Sexy as fuck by the look of things," says Sophie, Marianne's sketchbook in hand.

"That's not the point." Marianne snatches it back. "I can _admire_ her physique without us being compatible." 

"What did Pentecost say?"

"He wants us in a Jaeger this evening."

Dani nods. "And Mako?"

"The same. But a bit nicer. Except I think I have to be the one to tell her."

"OK! Good luck with that! Speaking of that Jaeger, I have to go, I'll see you later." Sophie pauses. "I'm so proud of you." 

Grace and Dani walk with her to Héloïse's room. "Do you want to meet her?"

In unison, they laugh. "You're not dragging us into this," Grace says.

So Marianne is abandoned to her fate.

Marianne knocks and makes herself presentable in front of the viewfinder. She knows Héloïse is there, looking at her. She just waits. 

After too long the door swings open. Héloïse's back is already to her, leaning over the bed. Marianne enters and closes the door, she moves around. Héloïse has a bag and is stuffing her workout clothes in it, back in her scrubby old navy sweater. 

"You're leaving?"

"Yes."

"You can't."

"I can. You can. Everyone can. You're not a prisoner. You don't have to do this."

"I want to be here."

"Why?" Héloïse finishes stuffing her bag, swings it over her shoulder, turns around. 

"Because I think it's the right thing to do."

"You want to save the world?" She makes it sound foolish, childlike, contemptible. 

"Didn't you?"

Her jaw tenses. "Yeah. I did. I lost everything and look - the world is still ending."

"I'm sorry about your sister."

Héloïse shakes her head. 

"I am. Héloïse, I can see -"

"Don't pretend you understand me."

"I want to understand. We..." She takes a deep breath. "It felt like we were dancing. Didn't you feel it?"

She doesn't say anything, which means she did. 

"I've never felt that way before. We could make a good team."

"No," Héloïse says. "No matter how it _felt_ I just about broke your ribs, because I'm an asshole. Maybe I should have then there would be none of this nonsense." 

Marianne takes a precautionary step back. "Why did you come here if you were just going to leave?"

"I wanted them to let me pilot alone."

"They would never."

"Well, end times. They might have. I didn't expect... I didn't think there would be anyone I could Drift with."

So she thinks they can, she feels it too. "So let's try."

"I don't want anyone in my head. And trust me, you don't want to be in there either."

"I do," she says gently. "If it means we can save the world."

"All it means is we die. In agony ripped in half by a Kaiju or trapped in the metal drowning at the bottom of the freezing ocean. Any one of a million, gruesome ways. I don't care, personally. But I'm not watching that, _feeling_ that, happen to you."

Héloïse is out of breath by the time she finishes. 

Marianne doesn't know what to say, that it isn't going to happen? When she knows as well as anyone that, of course, it might. She just chooses not to dwell on it. That isn't the point, Héloïse is scared, but not for herself and that is its own kind of heartbreaking.

"Get in the Jaeger with me later. Let me show you, please." 

...

Héloïse does not know what she is doing here getting suited up, but here she is. Overhead one of the many battle clocks counts down. 

Heading towards Summer Storm and her stomach is churning. The last time she had seen her Jaeger she was half conscious being medivacced away. Now the thing is almost unrecognisable, shining and new. Whereas Héloïse is beat up and older, hardly a shell of who she had been. 

The first time she had entered Summer Storm with her sister, no. She is about to go into the Drift for the first time in five years and with Marianne. She needs to keep her head clear.

And here is Marianne, drawing alongside her, giving her a shy, gentle smile. Héloïse looks away, gets herself strapped in. 

"Last chance to back out," she says. 

Marianne looks back at her, resolute. She could be pretty forceful when she wants to be. 

"Prepare for neural handshake," comes a voice from the control room. The countdown starts. 

"You ready for this? Real brains are tricky," Héloïse says. "They can take you strange places."

"I've done my training," Marianne says, but her tone is lighthearted. 

"Don't say I didn't warn you..." She is looking at Marianne and sees the neural link having its effect. Marianne's eyes grow wide, her body shakes for a moment. Then Héloïse feels it too. 

Her brain is being dragged through the vacuum of space until it collides with another. It is bright, it is warm. Héloïse can hear laughter. 

The sun beats down on her skin and she is laughing, Marianne is laughing. They are in a field, the hazy summer day catching motes floating slowly on the breeze. Then there are curtains, no, not curtains, a sheet, in that same breeze. An airy room with pale blue walls, still that joy. Even when it starts to rain there is the fascination of the raindrops forming their rivulets down the window. 

Everything here in Marianne's mind is a source of fascination. She races through Marianne's memories. All these apparently disjointed fragments with an undercurrent of delight with the world. 

It isn't meant for Héloïse, it isn't hers to take, she fights it. Somewhere there is a voice saying her link is weakening. A warning, relax, it says. 

She comes back to herself enough. She is in the cockpit of Summer Storm. She can see Marianne and see what Marianne is thinking about at the same time. Walking by a river, sitting around a dinner table with her family, laughing. Héloïse rears back. 

"It's alright." The other voice is still talking about her link. But this is Marianne. In the cockpit, Marianne is looking over at her. "You're alright. You can stay if you like." Speaking it out loud, not in their heads. It feels more deliberate that way. 

Héloïse swallows, pulls herself back. 

The control room comes in. "Héloïse? Héloïse, we good?"

"I'm fine." She is sweating. They would know that in control. They had her heartbeat, all her vital signs. She breathes deep.

"Checks then, please."

Héloïse looks at the modules in front of her. This isn't her job, this is her sister's job. 

Marianne starts calling out numbers from the instruments. The control room crackles over the comm. " _Héloïse_ , checks."

She knows this, she knows how to do this. She also knows she shouldn't be doing this. "Holding at..." She falters. 

"Just gives us a moment," Marianne says. 

Her calm floods through Héloïse. Héloïse takes it, greedily, she takes it all. She clears her checks perfectly. "We are good to go."

"Permission withheld, repeat, permission withheld. No go." The voice is authoritative, then comes back gentler. "We just have some technical difficulties on our end. Give us a moment."

"No worries," Marianne answers for them. "Standing by." She turns her head to Héloïse. "You know much about art?"

"Not really." Héloïse doesn't understand what is happening.

"What might you be into..."

Héloïse finds her mind crystallising around a vision of water lilies and a bridge. The colours are sublime. 

"No," Marianne is saying somewhere. "That's my favourite. Monet."

"It's sunny," Héloïse says stupidly. It's like Marianne's memories. Whatever, she isn't an art critic. 

"How about..." And Héloïse is on an airplane. Then she is approaching a boxy, glassy building. White walls and she is walking through a gallery. The paintings are boxy too. "Rothko," Marianne's voice says. 

"I like them." Héloïse feels herself relaxing into it. 

"I thought you might."

"Why?"

"Orderliness, subtlety, challenge." 

They walk, it feels like it's them, together. "Where are we?" Héloïse asks. 

"New York. You want to go to London?"

"Sure."

Beefeaters, aching feet, Westminster Palace, drizzle, then a riot of colour. "Matisse," Marianne says. "L'Escargot."

"In what sense is that a snail?"

She feels Marianne's laugh ripple through her. "Artists." She feels the shrug. "You like it."

"I do. What else?"

But the crisp voice from the control centre breaks in. "All resolved. We are go. Commence calibration."

...

Marianne's smile is still on her face as she feels the freeze in Héloïse. 

"Let's go then," she says, even though she can tell something is wrong. She glances over at Héloïse. Her hand is halfway to the console, but isn't moving further. "Shall I do it?" She wants to reach, but something is pulling her back. There is a vortex sucking her down. She fights it, but Héloïse's mind is her own and she is sinking, she can't hold them. They plunge.

It is this same Jaeger, but it's different. Marianne looks at the actual cockpit, then back into Héloïse's memory. She is walking outside of it. Héloïse is where Marianne had stood, Héloïse's place occupied by another, her sister. They are being thrown from side to side, but Marianne remains perfectly balanced. 

"Héloïse." She speaks to the Héloïse in the memory, as well as the real one frozen in place. "Come on, let's get out of here. Let's take a break."

But here, in the memory, Héloïse is fighting for her life. Her face is steely, her movements are powerful, matching her sister's perfectly. 

"Steady," her sister calls. Sparks fly around the cockpit and the whole place pushes back as the Kaiju makes impact. It holds to the front of the Jaeger. Héloïse powers up her cannon, but the Kaiju is there, ripping into the Jaeger's arm, pulls it right off. Héloïse cries out, clutching her arm as the force rips through. Her sister is reporting a hit back to base. Marianne can feel her mind frenzied with concern for Héloïse. 

"Hey, show me where you grew up," Marianne appeals uselessly. Héloïse's whole mind is open to her, she could look if she wanted to. But she needs Héloïse to take control. "I want to see little Héloïse." Before all this, who you were before all this. 

The Kaiju keeps coming. It is all over them, smashes into the hull. The impact sets off alarms. Héloïse and her sister look up at the gaping hole that appears in the cockpit.

"Marianne!" comes the voice from the control tower. "We're losing her, get her out of there."

"You know this is just a memory, it's not real. You know how this works, you're slipping." In the cockpit Héloïse stares ahead, her frown twitching, eyes unseeing. In the memory, she almost looks at Marianne.

"What's she doing, Marianne?"

She is going down the rabbithole, getting lost in her memories, the peril of the Drift. "I can bring her back."

"Héloïse..." She can't bring her back. 

The Kaiju is maximising on the damage, prising the Jaeger apart. Héloïse's sister is calling to Héloïse. "Héloïse, listen to me -" The look on her sister's face is calm though, possessed of herself. Even as the monstrous hand makes its way into the cockpit and grasps, taking half of it, and Héloïse's sister, flying out into the blackness of the night. 

Héloïse screams her sister's name as her own body is flung from side to side. Marianne feels it too, feels Héloïse's _and_ her sister's pain. Sees a life flashing before her eyes, sees memories of Héloïse's smile. The pain and the fear and the bravery in the face of it. The oblivion, the breathtaking nothingness just for a second. 

In the cockpit, Marianne scrambles right in front of Héloïse. "Héloïse, come back."

Slowly Héloïse brings her arm back. It is the first time she has moved and for a moment Marianne feels relieved, but she pulls her arm down in a decisive movement. The Jaeger moves, both in the memory and in reality. The nuclear core charges. 

"Marianne! She's arming. We're cutting her off."

In the memory, Héloïse lets out some sort of war cry. Her visor is smashed, there is blood on her face and one arm hangs limp at her side. She roars as she pulls back the other arm to direct the nuclear blast at the Kaiju. 

"Get her out," Marianne yells to control. It is going to hurt like anything to be forcefully ejected from the Drift, but not as much as a nuclear strike. All she hears on the other end is panic. Pentecost comes on. "We're trying to disarm manually. But Marianne... you have to pull her out." 

Marianne takes hold of Héloïse's shoulders. In the memory, too. "Look at me."

The whir of the weapon loading continues. "We can't shut it down. She's going to blow the whole complex."

Marianne shuts it out. She takes a firmer grip on Héloïse, takes a firmer grip on herself. She's had a good life full of happiness and beauty and she opens that up for Héloïse, opens herself up. Looks into Héloïse's eyes, not hiding her fear and concern. "Look at me."

A flicker, something in the grey, the blue, the green recognises her. Hold onto me, Marianne urges her. Héloïse takes a gasp. I'm here, Marianne tells her. Héloïse's eyes focus on her own, then take in the rest of her face. Flick over her shoulder to the cockpit. 

"Marianne? What are you doing here?"

"It's a memory, you're slipping. Look at me."

"What's happening?"

"Can you disarm it?"

Héloïse freezes again and Marianne feels the explosion in the memory. 

But in the cockpit, Héloïse slowly lowers her hand and turns off the bomb. 

In her memory she is staggering, holding the entire physical and mental weight of a Jaeger herself. Only one other pilot has ever done that and survived. There has to be two to share the load. But here is Héloïse struggling through alone. 

Back in the cockpit, she sinks against the harness. Marianne unbuckles her, takes her weight as she topples to the floor, sinks down with her.

"It's alright," she says, even as she goes with Héloïse on the long, agonising limp through the Alaskan seas, dragging the crumbling Jaeger with her to the shore and falling there. Crawling from the wreckage broken and bleeding and sobbing. Rolling onto her back waiting for the pain to carry her away until the throbbing in the air of the helicopter bearing her away instead. 

Marianne tightens her arms around Héloïse through the beeps, the bright white lights, the view of the ceiling. The sight of her swollen face in a mirror, the plaster cast arm, limping to the bathroom where she retched and cried over the toilet bowl. 

The darkness, lying in bed, awake or asleep or somewhere in between. Not of the room, of the blue skies outside, the flowers on the bedside table, the watercolours on the walls. Just darkness suffusing every crack of every memory, the heaviness of it. The visit from Pentecost, the yelling, the recriminations. The waiting and waiting and the tiny little petrol boat over the sea. Standing on the cliffs wanting nothing more than to step forward, somehow not. Every day standing on the cliffs waiting to step over, somehow not. 

In between, graduating from a tent to a rudimentary shelter to some approximation of a cabin. Bringing tools and supplies and working through the rain and the sleet and the snow. Hurting and being glad of it. Watching the seasons change, watching plants grow. Lying in the dirt and letting the darkness lie there too. Fighting, every night, in her dreams. 

Until another helicopter came, then here to the Shatterdome. And there was Marianne, Marianne on the floor as all the old pain of love and loss came flooding back. 

Héloïse sits up. "I'm OK." She is almost as far from OK as it is possible to be. They both know it, but they both agree to allow it.

"Good." Marianne rubs at Héloïse's arms. 

The cockpit is flooding with people. Sophie is there, removing Marianne's helmet, hugging her. Héloïse is borne away and Marianne looks helplessly after her. 

...

Héloïse sits on the edge of the trolley in the medbay, looking resolutely at the floor. She's been given a clean bill of health, but everyone knows there is more to it than that. She is headed for a psych eval, then home. She isn't going to hang around for it. 

So Héloïse marches straight out of there. In the corridor, she doesn't know which way she is going and as she looks up and down she sees Marianne at the same time as Marianne sees her. She is holding Héloïse's sweater in her lap, holding it out to her as she stands. 

"How are you feeling?"

Considering she almost killed everyone in a mile radius... pretty good. 

"Thanks," she only says, taking the sweater and putting it on. Marianne had seen... well, everything. Despite that, it is impossible to be appropriately mortified about it. They had drifted together, that changed everything. 

"Sorry, but Pentecost wants to see us as soon as you've been cleared."

"I haven't _technically_ been cleared." She notes the barely-surprised look on Marianne's face. "So we've got some time?"

"You don't want to get it over with?"

"They are going to send me back home."

"A few hours ago you _wanted_ to go back home."

It is pointless arguing with Marianne, now, she knows it all, she has felt it all. "A lot can change in a few hours." A few hours and a lifetime of memories.

Marianne nods. 

"I'm sorry." Héloïse surprises herself with it. 

"You don't need to be."

"I told you it wouldn't be pretty in there." Marianne's mind, however, was like a romp in the Elysian Fields.

"I'm not going to let him send you away."

Mild-mannered Marianne really thinks she can stand up to Stacker Pentecost. But she'd talked down a nuclear weapon-wielding Héloïse, so maybe. 

"Now I'm the only other person who has piloted a Mark III, sort of. And I'm not doing it with anyone else."

"You tell _him_ that."

"I will." She puts back her shoulders and laughs. It's beautiful. "And then maybe I'll be sent home too, for insubordination. Come on."

So Héloïse follows her through the corridors. People outright stop and stare. At Marianne too, which is what especially pisses Héloïse off.

One of the techs barges into Marianne and though she is quick enough to sidestep she still gets a clip. Which isn't even the point. Marianne saved them all. He glares at Héloïse as he comes passed, but she's having none of it, she pushes against his chest. 

"Apologise to her."

"Fuck off."

"Héloïse, don't."

"No, fuck this guy."

He grabs his crotch. "Come on then."

The swing is perfect, if she does say so herself. Marianne will later call it idiotic. It is, but it's also perfect. Perfect balance, perfect follow-through. The look on his face is perfect as he sees it coming. The thwack and the slow-motion ripple is perfect. So now, as he barrels into her and sends her crashing against the wall to hit pipes and send up steam, she will hold onto the perfection she delivered. 

She's back on her feet. He's snarling with hate and she knows that look, she sees it in the mirror every day and it feels good to land a punch on it. Blood splatters, but he doesn't go down. She's got no finesse now, she's pure rage. His wild swing to her head can't stop her, nor the second. But Marianne is behind her, swooping up her arm and twisting it behind her back. 

"Hey!" Marianne instructs over Héloïse's shoulder. "We're heading to the marshal's office. If you want to come too, be our guest, otherwise you can get out of here."

He spits blood onto the floor and gets out of there. 

"Are you going to let me go?"

Dangerously close to her ear Marianne replies, "Are you going to behave?"

"He started it."

"No, that was definitely you." Marianne lets her go. Héloïse is kind of sad about it. "Now look at you."

"What?"

"You're bleeding."

"Am I?" She feels it in her mouth now Marianne has mentioned it. "Oh, anyway, he knocked you."

"I can take care of myself."

"You just don't."

"That's my call. Look at the state of you." Marianne's fingers are running over Héloïse's eyebrow. She looks down the corridor. "Come on." 

Holding Héloïse's hand she drags her into the toilets. Gets paper and runs it under the tap. Héloïse looks in the mirror and readjusts her jaw. Yeah, it kind of hurts now, come to think of it. Marianne reappears in front of her, dabbing at the cut on her forehead. 

"Guy couldn't even land a decent punch."

"Lucky for your face, here," she hands her more tissue and guides Héloïse's hand to her busted lip. After a moment, hovering there, with nowhere to look, only each other's faces, Marianne pulls back. 

"Well, at least you're not going to be dripping blood on the marshal's floor." As she pulls back her fingers linger on Héloïse's cheek. "Please don't do that again."

"No," Héloïse agrees. Though this is currently proving a pretty great incentive to the contrary. 

"Pentecost is going to flip out."

"How much madder can he get? I already nearly killed everyone."

"That was not your fault." 

This comes as a surprise to Héloïse. "It was. Don't you dare go in there saying that to him."

"No," Marianne lies.

"The thing is, I know you now."

"And I know you. And I know that was not your fault."

...

As soon as they get into the marshal's office Marianne is indeed stating her case for Héloïse. It's a balance between defending her and making it worse.

She shouldn't be here, it's the height of cruelty and irresponsibility to bring someone who has suffered so much into this situation. That she had a meltdown is no wonder. That should have been considered inevitable from the start.

At the same time Marianne is desperately glad Héloïse is here. That she has found someone she can Drift with. Which means she gets to do what she came here to do. But also that Drifting with Héloïse was beyond anything Marianne could ever have imagined. All that fire, she thinks with Héloïse maybe they really can turn the tide.

But there's a dark recklessness to Héloïse. She's a kamikaze pilot quite literally and that makes Marianne ache.

Pentecost is waiting. He does not seem at all surprised by the state of Héloïse's face either because he's already heard or been able to guess what would happen. 

"What happened in that Jaeger was a fucking disgrace. You should never have gotten in that thing."

Marianne is ready. "Maybe you should have thought of that."

He was _not_ expecting that, his face is a picture. 

"Marianne, no," Héloïse says. "I was caught off guard, it was my fault."

"That is perfectly obvious."

"Sir," Marianne interrupts.

He holds a finger up to her. Then points it at Héloïse. "You, out." Then to Marianne. "You, on very thin ice, _very_."

"Marianne saved everyone," Héloïse says. 

"Saved from _you_ , so you don't get to contribute anything to this discussion."

"I'm aware."

He looks at Héloïse for a moment though. "You've changed your tune."

"Not really," she says, but she glances at Marianne and Marianne knows. It seems insane they have known each other ten hours when they _know_ each other so completely. There's no manual for this, nothing in the training programme. She trusts Héloïse and she knows Héloïse would say that is a mistake, but she knows she will anyway.

"Pack your things."

Héloïse doesn't need telling twice. She leaves. Marianne catches her eye before the door closes. It might be gratitude, but it's raw and cornered and fighting too. 

"I trust her."

Pentecost shakes his head. "I should never have brought her here."

"No. But you did. And here we are."

"She's got a death wish." It's accusatory, as though he isn't responsible for putting it there, but a flicker after that Marianne thinks might be regret. 

"I know."

"Well, you know her better than anyone, now."

It's a horrible legacy, but Marianne will take it. 

Pentecost sighs and Marianne has never seen him like this, never thought she would ever see him like this. The strain wearing on him, of being in charge of the one thing standing between humanity and the apocalypse, about to gamble it all on this one risky move.

"If Grace and Dani are to have any chance of getting close enough to the Breach to drop the bomb into it we are going to need everyone. Everyone on top form."

"So she's staying? "

"Didn't say that. But the first flight isn't until tomorrow morning so I guess I'm sleeping on it."

... 

Héloïse is already packed, had barely unpacked, but she has taken more showers in the last twenty-four hours than the previous four years and has run through plenty of clothes. So she skips that part of the instruction and goes straight to the Shatterdome to find a quiet place. Which ends up being a hundred feet off the ground on some rigging. 

She kicks her legs over the ledge and watches the last of the repairs and work being done on Summer Storm. The huge clock ticking away over the vast hall. 

Big plans are afoot. Whether they involve her or not is still in the air.

Her exact feelings on whether or not she _wants_ to be involved are also still very much in the air. Some of Marianne's optimism and idealism has rubbed off on her. If Marianne thinks this is winnable maybe it is, if Marianne thinks this is _worth_ winning maybe it is. 

Héloïse trusts her. Numerous psych evals since her sister's death said she had trust issues, which wasn't true. She was desperately waiting for someone she trusted as much as she trusted her sister, to feel that understood. No-one came close. Marianne wasn't close, she was entirely different. What they had all missed was that it was herself she didn't trust.

Footsteps behind her and she doesn't need to turn around. No-one else would dare, no-one else would want to, no-one else would know. 

Marianne settles next to her, legs dangling, hand curling around the edge. She doesn't say anything.

Eventually, Héloïse takes her cue. "You had a nice life. Why are you here?" She inclines herself towards Marianne a little, watches her profile. 

Eyes still on the Jaeger, Marianne says, "That's why. My life was nice and millions of people were suffering out here living with this and as much as we tried to pretend it was their problem it was coming for us all. How could I not?"

"You're not the most obvious Jaeger pilot."

"Believe me," she smiles, "no-one was more surprised, horrified even, than me. But I volunteered, I thought maybe ops somewhere, and I tested and here we are."

"Perhaps we need more artists in our big punching machines."

"Perhaps," she smiles again, knocking shoulders with Héloïse. "I know why you are here. But not why you are staying."

"I'll let you know when I know."

Héloïse leans forward, putting her hand next to Marianne's, against Marianne's. Their brains had melded, the least she needs now is a tiny physical connection.

"Do you think I should stay?"

Marianne looks at her. She's trying to see how honest she can get away with being. "I don't know. I'm not worried about being nuclear-detonated. I'm worried about you. You did your duty, you sacrificed. It's too much to ask you to do that again."

"I've got no intention of losing like that again."

"That's why I worry. You're too eager for your last stand." She moves her hand over Héloïse's.

Then her hand is running up Héloïse's arm. Fingertips over the scars. The long, raised wound ripped open by shrapnel. The surgical incisions from the plates and pins putting her shattered bones back together. The imprints of Jaeger circuitry burnt into her skin after the overload. 

"Do you _want_ me to stay?"

"Yes," Marianne simply says. 

It's too much. Héloïse wants to fight, is exhausted, wants to throw herself off the rigging, is desperate for this, wants to run away, everything, all at once. 

Marianne is moving, she's getting closer. Héloïse is opening up, more alert, more alive than in any fight. 

An alarm sounds.

... 

Marianne and Héloïse barrel into the control room. Pentecost is at the front delivering orders. A double event, the first ever, the biggest Kaiju ever seen. The researchers hadn't been joking about things escalating quickly. 

The Russians and Chinese teams are sent out to run interference. Grace and Dani are to hold back, protect the city. They can't afford to get damaged now. 

Marianne gives them a quick nod as they head to their Jaeger. It's always the same, they always know. 

Pentecost looks directly at Marianne, then Héloïse and says nothing. No orders. "Sir!" she protests. The unthinkable is happening, that could throw everything into jeopardy, and he's still holding them back. 

She glances to the side and Héloïse is tense. Anyone else would think she's not reacting. Marianne knows. Her jaw, her neck. When just now up on the rigging Marianne had almost kissed her and she had looked so vulnerable and small. Now she is steeled once more. 

The fight is going badly. Snatches of comms, the screen showing the Kaiju, the stream of data from the Jaegers. Then Grace and Dani wade in. Defying orders, but then the pair of them have always been really good at that. 

The Chinese triplets are taken out. The control room shudders. 

The Russians in Chernow Alpha are hit with acid and incapacitated. Underwater, gone.

Marianne wants to say something, but this morning she had been a nobody. Just one in a sea of jostling cadets and her place up here in the heart of the operation still hangs in the balance. 

Now it's just Grace and Dani keeping up the fight. Until the EMP goes off. The control room is plunged into darkness. 

...

Marianne is looking wildly at Héloïse in the dim blue light of the backup generator and Héloïse's brain is shutting down. Marianne's friends are out there and this whole blow out plan is on the line and Marianne's desperate need for action is clear. But she won't do anything without Héloïse, so Héloïse steps forward. "Summer Storm is analogue. An EMP doesn't matter. We can do this."

Pentecost is at the end of his rope. Everyone knows that if they lose Grace and Dani the whole plan is sunk. And Héloïse supposes she kind of cares now. 

"Suit up."

They race to the Jaeger. Just before they establish the neural link Marianne reaches out. "Thank you." It's unnecessary because in a moment Héloïse will know everything she is thinking, but there's something else there in her eyes. Confidence. Trust. 

The Drift is established. Héloïse holds onto Marianne. There's something different about her now though, there's the sunshine, but...

"That's you," Marianne tells her in the Drift. "The parts of you that are parts of me now."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

Héloïse closes her eyes. She walks in a meadow. She doesn't go back to the island, that place was never a happy place, it was a place of learning how to survive again. Marianne's meadow, though. She can hear crickets. 

"Why is that interesting?" Marianne is beside her. "The crickets?"

"I haven't heard crickets since..." She never knows what to call it, but Marianne understands. Héloïse taps her ear. "I lost the higher frequencies."

Héloïse brings herself back to the cockpit because she cannot stand the way Marianne is looking at her. She can still feel the sun on her face. This is going to work. 

They drop.

Despite it all, despite everything they've already been through, it's the first time they have piloted a Jaeger together. It's easy. It's as natural as breathing. 

...

Marianne's scared, of course she's scared. She can't hide this from Héloïse, who can feel it, but she wouldn't anyway, she's not ashamed. And she trusts Héloïse. She knows Héloïse can feel that too, feel that more. 

It's her first time piloting a Jaeger, but it's easy. It's as natural as... breathing. In her mind Héloïse is full of amusement. 

When she looks over Héloïse is stony-faced, storming along. She looks powerful, she doesn't look scared. Even though Marianne knows part of her is. 

Up ahead of them Grace and Dani's Jaeger is stock-still in the middle of the bay. A Kaiju circles them. 

"We're nearly at you guys," Marianne tells them. "Try not to do anything stupid." She's not sure they can hear her, but it makes her feel better at least. As an answer two flares fly from the head of the Jaeger and hit the Kaiju in the face. Completely ineffective, a great distraction, also stupid. 

As they get closer she feels Héloïse coil. They crouch, together, and spring off, tackling the Kaiju, rolling into the sea, back onto their feet. 

Héloïse makes it look easy. She's not lost her touch in five years. But then, look at her. And Marianne has looked. This... is not something she should be thinking about while Drifting and linked to Héloïse's mind.

The Kaiju is back on its feet, back on them, wrapping its arms around the Jaeger. Just as Marianne had been thinking they were off to a pretty good start they are flying, spinning through the air having been flung all the way back to the port. In unison they get stood up and brace. 

"You with me?" Héloïse calls. 

Marianne is right there. She doesn't need to reply. 

They run, they jump, they punch this monster to within an inch of its life. It's good old-fashioned violence with flawless precision and co-ordination and it is thrilling. 

The Kaiju takes hold of them again and starts pushing them backwards. Its underside is exposed and Héloïse unleashes blast after blast from the plasma cannon. It collapses. Héloïse adds another two, just to be sure. Marianne appreciates the thoroughness. 

Grace and Dani are being helicoptered out of the harbour, it is reported over the comm. Marianne feels relief wash through her. Some of it from the unlikely source next to her. 

There is still another Kaiju marauding around Hong Kong. 

...

It's hard to tell who's idea swinging a ship around is. With her sister, as much as they were connected, there was a distinction. Héloïse knew whose thoughts were whose. With Marianne it's one and the same. Maybe both, together, in absolute synchronicity. 

The moment can't last. The ship is knocked away and the Kaiju lashes at them with its tail, sends them rolling several blocks. They sprint after it, get thrown through a few buildings. The usual action movie destruction. They dodge the acid spray, but the pincered tail is a real problem. Once that is taken care of Heloise thinks they might be on the up-and-up. 

Until the thing sprouts wings.

And picks them up, taking them into the stratosphere where the Jaeger begins to freeze and the oxygen levels fall. That's it, that's all they've got. 

"Oh," Marianne says brightly. "There's this new thing I forgot to mention."

She hits a button. Articulated steel folds out from Summer Storm's arm and locks solid. Someone put a sword on Héloïse's Jaeger. She's both offended and impressed. A swing, a stab and it's over. The problem is, having killed the Kaiju, they are falling. 

Fuck, Héloïse thinks as they fall. This was coming to an end quicker than she'd thought. At least they downed two historically large Kaiju, that wasn't a bad swansong, something to be remembered by. 

They. Marianne. 

Héloïse looks over. 

"You want to hear some music?"

Yes.

They are in a concert hall. The orchestra tune their instruments. Héloïse feels the anticipation in Marianne at the sound. The conductor arrives, the music starts. 

"Do you recognise it?"

I... yes? Somewhere. 

"The Four Seasons."

Yes, but no, not the Jaeger. Somewhere else. 

In the concert hall Marianne is breathing fast. Somewhere, outside time, Héloïse is sobbing her heart out.

"Héloïse," Marianne says, because she knows. "We can do this." And she's not going to let Marianne fall 50,000 feet to splatter all over Hong Kong. 

"That's the spirit." Marianne smiles. 

Héloïse knows this machine, she has it burned into her skin. She unconsciously activated the nuclear reaction before... A burn. 

"We burn it. Face first."

"Do it," Marianne says, completely trusting her. So it better work. 

They face downwards. Héloïse burns. It's not enough, they are too fast still. Again, righting themselves. A desperate handful of appeals to any God that might be listening and they crash into the stadium. Perfect landing. 

Héloïse looks over, Marianne is panting. She looks back, Héloïse grins. 

...

Last time they walked through the corridors with everyone looking at them Héloïse ended up in a fistfight, but now there are cheers and awe. 

Marianne gets pounced by Sophie and hugged to within an inch of her life. Grace and Dani are there. Intact, but not without damage, Dani is smiling bravely through the pain of her bandaged arm. Grace is holding her up, bracing against her. 

But Dani is looking at Grace with a fear and Marianne knows it. Dani can't pilot a Jaeger with that arm. She won't be going anywhere and the next part of the plan relies on them, puts them in so much danger and already Marianne cannot imagine how it would feel to have to say goodbye to Héloïse and send her off into the deep alone, as Dani will have to do. 

Grace puts a hand on Héloïse's shoulder. "Thank you."

Héloïse nods. Marianne watches her and watches her and watches her. 

Pentecost gives the briefest of eulogies to their fallen friends. 

And restarts the clock. 

Somewhere in the corridors to their bunks Marianne takes Héloïse's hand, somewhere before they get back Héloïse drops it.

In the shower, Marianne turns down the temperature. It hurts, but sharpens everything, it reminds her she is alive. 

When Marianne returns to her room, Héloïse is there. 

...

Blood rushes in Héloïse's veins. She hasn't felt this alive in... well, ever. Yes it's the adrenaline from the fight and yes she hasn't slept in maybe thirty-six hours and yes it's the residual connection from the Drift, but it's everything else too. 

Marianne doesn't say anything when she walks in and finds Héloïse there. She doesn't look especially surprised, either. 

Héloïse has brought herself here though she hardly has a plan. But Marianne comes to her. Puts herself so close, too close, not close enough. Rests her head on Héloïse's shoulder. They couldn't be close enough if they were fused together. 

"I know this," Héloïse says as she puts her arms around Marianne, turns her. 

Marianne gives the slightest of nods. 

She's seen Marianne's lovers, she knows Marianne has seen hers. But this? This is something else. Beneath them another layer they can't touch, something inevitable.

It's an instinct, it's the well-worn path home, the way she runs her hands over Marianne. How Marianne's mouth falls open. Héloïse can hear her breathing, it sounds like the waves. Hot on Héloïse's fingers as they trace Marianne's lips. Héloïse can't wait a moment longer, there's no time. Héloïse kisses her, long and hard and searing.

As much as she is overwhelmed and wants to surrender to this, to Marianne, not all instincts are correct, or good. Rarely are Héloïse's. 

"Fuck. We shouldn't do this." 

"Yes, we should." Marianne's hands are on her face, the tenderness enough to make Héloïse explode. 

Because at some point, perhaps just a few hours, they are getting back in that Jaeger and taking a nuclear bomb to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Their clock has run down. Almost before it had started. 

Now Marianne kisses her, breathes life into her, resurrects her. 

An alarm sounds. 

...

In the Shatterdome, Pentecost is suited up, stands on a pile of scrap in the middle of a crowd and tells them to believe in each other. 

Marianne looks at Héloïse, she takes Héloïse's hand. There's nothing she believes in more. 

Grace and Dani are saying a tearful farewell. Sophie hugs Marianne, holds onto her. 

"It's going to be fine," Marianne tells her. Sophie is plainly unconvinced. Marianne isn't even putting on a brave face. She needs to believe it, so she does. That this plan can work, that they can come back from it. 

The activity is fevered. Amongst all the running around Marianne feels perfectly calm. Pentecost and Grace go to their Jaeger, she and Héloïse go to theirs. 

"The moment I start caring about the future..." Héloïse says. 

Marianne wants so badly to kiss her again. But they are being strapped in and they have a world to save. They will Drift together, they will always have that. 

And then they do have that, the link is established and Marianne is flooded with the force of Héloïse's passion. All her pain, all her anger, all her love.

...

The helicopters take them out into the bay and they drop. Marching towards the breach completely submerged now in the murky gloom of the ocean. 

The control room keeps up a steady stream of information on the Kaiju which Héloïse mostly blocks out. How many there are, how big they are... it doesn't matter. She will fight whatever gets in front of her. Then the research team are back, yammering on about some change to the plan.

Héloïse hears it through Marianne. Lets Marianne parse and dissect and react, gauges her feelings. Marianne is concerned. The plan has become more complicated, more risky. Héloïse is hardly surprised. Plans have a habit of doing that. 

Control is yelling through the comms again. A third Kaiju has come through the Breach. The largest ever. And what? The two she and Marianne fought alone in Hong Kong were the biggest ever, then. Now a whole other category larger, and three. 

Marianne is in Héloïse's mind, probing her reaction, just as she had done. Héloïse's reaction is a shrug. "We just keep fighting until there's nothing left to fight." 

There's a distinct feeling of being psychoanalyzed. "You kept fighting even though there was only yourself left to fight."

"I'll keep fighting until you tell me to stop. How about that?"

She has made Marianne smile and it feels faintly miraculous. "Deal."

Héloïse lets herself relax into the warmth of Marianne just for a moment. Until someone decides what is going on. She floats in the endless ocean of Marianne's mind and still Marianne is only smiling. 

It's only a moment, anyway, before the Kaiju decide what is going on and one hits Summer Storm from the side. Héloïse and Marianne have time to grab hold and wrestle it to the floor. Héloïse whips out the sword, she has grown to approve of this sword, but, from behind, one of the other Kaiju rushes passed. It breaks the sword from Héloïse's arm and the force of it forces a shout of pain, but the rush of it gives her and Marianne the impetus to slam down with Marianne's sword, getting the first Kaiju off them and slinking back away into the gloom. 

Somewhere out in the darkness Pentecost and Grace are in trouble, taking damage, yelling. Except Héloïse zones in on the warning that another Kaiju is coming straight for Summer Storm. 

Next to her, Marianne is oozing power and it's intoxicating. Her body is so finely-tuned and her mind is so focussed. Héloïse could admire it all day, but the adrenaline is roaring through her muscles too and there's a monster heading their way. 

Together they know they can pull this outrageous move. As the Kaiju swims at them full force they put up the sword. The Kaiju slices itself in half, all they need to do is dig deep, hold on, be strong, and they do. In whose mind Héloïse doesn't know, maybe they aren't even separate minds anymore, but they hold onto one another and can stand firm against any force in the world. 

There's no time for exhilaration. 

The two remaining Kaiju are converging on Grace and Pentecost. 

...

"We're on our way," Marianne tells them over the comms. 

Summer Storm is limping. The arm on Héloïse's side is torn half off, her own leg is damaged and she's using the sword as a crutch. Water is spraying into the cockpit from fuck knows where. 

"No!" comes back Pentecost. "Our release is jammed. We can't deliver the payload."

A shiver crawls over Marianne's skin. 

"The hull is compromised," Grace says. "Half our systems are offline." 

Then there is only the sound of crashing as a Kaiju hits them, somewhere off in the ocean that Marianne cannot see, cannot do anything about. Just keep limping on towards them, hoping they won't be too late. 

She feels Héloïse holding back. Come on, she urges, we can reach them. 

It's not fear of a fight, it never would be with Héloïse. 

Her answer comes from Pentecost instead. "You know what you have to do."

That's what Héloïse is thinking. Summer Storm is nuclear. The whole Jaeger is the payload. They can ride a Kaiju into the Breach and detonate, seal the Rift, save the world. 

Héloïse knows it, but the look in her eyes is fear and indecision. 

Yes, Marianne tells her. 

No, not you, not you too, Héloïse's eyes say. 

It feels like forever they are locked there together, but in reality, it is a fraction of a second. Before Héloïse is saying, "Yes, sir," and they turn to begin the slow limp towards the Breach. 

Héloïse is trying to block her out, keep Marianne from her mind. They stand together in the Drift, in infinity, and Marianne strokes Héloïse's frown. 

"You can finish this," Pentecost is saying through the comms. 

It only just started, they only just started. 

"We're going to detonate," Pentecost continues. "Clear the way."

Marianne is fully present in the cockpit. Héloïse looks over with concern. The intercom crackles.

"Grace, no." It's Dani. Marianne's heart breaks.

"We don't need it." Héloïse is on the comms now. "Fall back, Marshal."

"I'm still giving orders, Héloïse."

Héloïse is picking up the pace as best she can and Marianne matches her. They hobble, pushing against the water and the pressure and every step is an effort. 

"You saved me," Grace says over the comms. "Let me save you."

Marianne reaches down into her mind. She creates somewhere new, not that new. Tousled sheets on a bed, diffused sunshine shining in, the sound of the sea. A lazy day with nowhere to go and nothing to do except be together. Héloïse arrives next to her, looks around. "Yes," she says. Their very own pocket of existence. 

"I'll meet you back here," Marianne says. "After." Héloïse only kisses her. 

The blast of the nuclear detonation rushes passed them as they brace. It blows the water from the floor of the ocean. There are an eerie few seconds as they stand in an empty space. Fish falling down around them. Then bracing again as the water floods back. 

"All systems critical," says Summer Storm's AI helpfully. The lights flash red, a siren sounds. 

"Let's finish this," Marianne says. Héloïse's eyes are wide and she is shaking her head. She is doing it anyway. 

They drag themselves across to the Rift, muscles roaring. Héloïse is a vision, a warrior. The Kaiju on guard doesn't know what has hit it as they loose their jets and fly into it, knocking it and spiralling together down into the Breach.

They fall. 

...

The Kaiju is not going down without a fight. It's many tentacles flail wildly and Héloïse gives it a good stab, but not before it has given their already half-destroyed Jaeger several more. The impacts shatter through, whatever systems were still surviving are not any longer, including life support. 

Next to her, Marianne is fading. "Stay with me," Héloïse calls across to her. In her mind, wraps her arms around a faltering Marianne. "Please."

She holds onto the Kaiju, but if it hits them again they will be ripped apart and they are not quite there yet. So she pulls it closer and burns the nuclear reactor right into its chest until it stops moving. 

They are still falling. 

Héloïse snaps off her harness. Marianne is sagging. "Come on," she says, but Marianne is unconscious. The link is broken. The link will never be broken. 

She pulls off her helmet, breathes in the air of the cockpit that tastes of saltwater and fuel. Adds her oxygen supply to Marianne's dwindling one. 

She unclips Marianne, takes her weight, moves her back to the escape pod which is smashed to pieces. She drags Marianne over to her own pod and puts down the glass. All signs are good. 

"You really did save the world," she tells Marianne and hits the eject. She can just about see the pod on the dashboard, making its way to the surface.

The instruments in front of her are entirely showing red. Everything about the Jaeger is _fucked_. Summer Storm has brought herself a one-way ticket to another dimension. 

This is good, this is as it should be. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be. Héloïse will stop this. Not for the world, just to make sure one single person is safe. Can live her beautiful, happy, good life. 

Now, about blowing up this hunk of junk. 

She sets the autopilot to self destruct, but it refuses. 

"Manual fucking override. Typical."

So she keeps falling. There's nothing else to do. She passes into another world, another dimension. Pretty cool thing to see before you die. 

The air is thin and she can feel it as she crawls across the floor to find the hatch for the self destruct as sparks fly all around her. Something is on fire. She pulls the lever. Sixty seconds. 

Héloïse falls onto her back, panting with the exertion, closes her eyes. She can be back in that room in a moment, she doesn't even need the link anymore. She never believed in life after death and certainly not in heaven, but she can believe in this. 

Marianne isn't there. That's good, Héloïse can wait, can wait forever. 

The clock is counting down. Fifty seconds. 

Marianne saved the world just like she always wanted. Héloïse got her big blow out. Just like she always wanted. Wanted. _Had_ wanted. She opens her eyes. 

...

Marianne feels like she's floating. She _is_ floating. She's bobbing around in an escape pod. She blows the cover and unbuckles herself, sits up. The sky is blue and there isn't a soul around. It's just her in the widest expanse of ocean imaginable. 

The comms crackle in her ear. "Marianne?"

"I'm here," she gasps. She's here, she's on her own, even in her mind. "Where's Héloïse?"

"You did it, you did it." There's the sound of cheers in the background. 

"Where's Héloïse?"

"She took the Jaeger into the Breach, she finished it." The voice is jubilant, proud, but solemn. "You did it."

But where's Héloïse? The words, the tone, start to sink in. She went into the breach, detonated the Jaeger. Finished it, finished it all. 

Marianne rips off her helmet and tosses it into the water. She starts pulling at her flight suit, but her hands won't co-operate, fumbling all over, and now she can't see, her vision blurring. She gets to her feet and wrenches her arms from the suit to let herself cool in the fresh air. She scans the horizon and every point in between, wipes at her eyes, her breath burns in her throat.

Waiting and waiting and waiting. Some part of her counting, but counting what she isn't sure. She remembers falling. The last thing she remembers. But she remembers everything else in those moments. Héloïse's smile, now she is remembering Héloïse's smile. 

Then there's a pop. A gentle, innocuous pop, barely audible over the sound of the lapping of the waves on her pod. She looks around, wiping frantically at her eyes. 

An escape pod. Héloïse. 

Her breath catches for a moment, but the top doesn't blow. It's not sitting in the water properly, it's damaged. 

She jumps in, swims over, clambers up, ungainly and slipping, but propelled by fear and hope in equal parts. The panel is cracked, but there's Héloïse. 

Marianne pulls the release and it flies off. Water cascades out. Her hands fumble at Héloïse's buckle. "Come on, come on, come on." Héloïse hasn't got her helmet on, she should really have her helmet on. There's blood on her face, again. 

Marianne gets Héloïse unbuckled and hauls her halfway to sitting. She's not moving. In the distance, Marianne hears helicopters. She puts her hand to Héloïse's throat. Goddamn suit, she can't find a pulse. She unzips it and puts her hand back to Héloïse's neck, but she can't, can only cradle her, looking desperately for the rescue helicopters. 

When she looks back down at Héloïse, her eyes are open and she has the gentlest of smiles on her face. 

Marianne sobs. One huge sob of relief. She touches Héloïse's cheek. "Are you enjoying yourself down there?"

"Very much so."

"So, we saved the world." She rests their foreheads together. 

...

Héloïse gets in one last military chopper.

The chickens have taken refuge in the house and pooped all over the floor. They've been eating the pumpkins. The asparagus is never going to be the same after having two helicopters land on it in the space of a week. 

The sky is blue, the sea is crashing against the cliffs, the world is saved. 

Marianne is here.


End file.
